


Wrong Turn

by MissE



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissE/pseuds/MissE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Fiction Land. Prompt: "Humans have a knack for choosing precisely the things that are worst for them." Dumbledore</p>
    </blockquote>





	Wrong Turn

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fiction Land. Prompt: "Humans have a knack for choosing precisely the things that are worst for them." Dumbledore

She grumbled as she stalked around the room. There were some days when she wished she could just go back to that day, and just walked the other way. Turned some corner, and just didn’t see that man with the otherworldly beauty. And that was the point, wasn’t it? Otherworldly beauty, because he was Other, they were the Others, outside yet inside the Normal world. He was Fae, tall and beautiful in a way the human men could never be. They all were, all had that ethereal beauty, no matter what they were like as beings. Even the dark ones had that beauty that made her feel dowdy and plain, for all that they were terrifying in their darkness.

And there was the sticking point, the singular thing that made her wish that she’d just walked the other way, made her incognisant of the Otherworld that lay within their own. Made her wish that she was one of the herd, insensitive to the beautiful ones, and incapable of taking their marks. For she had been marked, Fae and Faerie, Dragons and Shifters, all had marked her, invisible to the Normal world, but highly visible, it seemed to the Others. And now _he_ had marked her; a Dark One had touched her face, and left the cold mark on her face, just above her temple, just in front of her hairline.

It had hurt. He had smirked at that, and said that the marks of the Fair Ones fought the mark that he had given her. And there was no going back. She had been marked, and it would stay there for the length of her life. From now until her dying day, all who were Other would look at her and see his mark, a stain on her face and on her life. And yet, those who knew this particular Dark One said that it was a good thing, this mark, this sign of his approval. And it left her ambivalent, frustrated, and wishing she were back on that street corner, back as a child, turning the other way, walking into a life of dreary normality, where she remained unknown to the Others, and where her life, for all that it would have been plain, would have been simple, uncomplicated by the affairs of those always so much more powerful than her, and safe.

Sometimes safe sounded nice.


End file.
